American Beauty
by xMikal
Summary: Dwayne/Frank, mostly fluffy. Dwayne has been acting unusual lately, and Frank has taken notice. If you don't like this kind of thing, my suggestion is to just not read it.


Six months, six whole months had passed and he was _still_ on suicide watch. Apparently his psychiatrist thought it was for the best because according to him, he was obviously in better shape, but not yet ready to deal with the pressures of the world. Frank thought this was entirely ridiculous and that he was quite sure the number one Proust Scholar was perfectly capable of handling himself. Though, many people would probably contradict that notion, Frank liked to think that he was quite all right now.

I suppose he would no longer say he was depressed; he was more confused and stressed than anything. For the last 5 months or so Frank had been working diligently on his own book on Proust, something that would make Sugarman fall from his throne. He could see it now, a review on his book in large bold letters "Dr. Ginsberg's book in no way shape or form can be compared to that of Dr. Sugarman, Ginsberg is simply too brilliant!" Frank liked the thought of such a review, and he would do whatever it took to read it one day. He had spent night upon night reading Sugarman's book, sitting with a highlighter and post-it notes, marking everything that he thought necessary, taking careful note of all things he thought needed to be corrected. Yet, on most nights, it was incredibly hard to pay to much attention to what he was doing.

It's not that he was uninterested in his own work, rather, he was just interested in something else.

Every night he sat in his bed, staring intently at his notes, but every single night he always found himself lifting his eyes above his notebook and wandering harmlessly over the lithe form that laid sprawled across the bed not to far from his own. He watched as the boy's chest rose up and down ever so gently with every small breath, the way his lips twitched slightly in his sleep. Frank even began to notice the faint movement of Dwayne's closed eyes when the young man began to dream, and of course every night Frank scolded himself. It wasn't as bad at first, Frank merely just watched Dwayne. However, over time it developed into much more. His eyes began to wander to private places on his nephew's body, his mind began to conjure up images of him and Dwayne and eventually, these thoughts wandered out of their room and Frank found himself thinking of these things whenever he was with Dwayne.

Frank knew how wrong it was, Frank hated that he was thinking such preposterous things and no matter how long he lay awake thinking about it and scolding himself, he could not make Dwayne stray from his mind. Of course, the situation didn't seem all that bad. After all, no harm was coming from it, Dwayne had not the slightest clue and Frank made sure to keep it a private secret that he was quite sure he would take to the grave.

Then everything took a violent change.

Dwayne was 18, and despite the fact that Frank was now off suicide watch, he remained at the house simply because it was easier to work on his book when he had free room and board. All these emotions swarming inside of him still remained, but most of them were subdued as Frank forced himself to be disgusted at just the thought of Dwayne as more then just his nephew. Of course, this became increasingly harder as Dwayne matured and every now and again Frank would swear on his life that there was something more, that Dwayne was hinting towards something. Frank always ignored any irregularities for many reasons, but every time it always caught his attention.

It was just little things like a strange look from across the room, a glance that lasted just a little too long, convenient accidental touches to very private parts of the Frank's body and moments of wrestling that could have lead to something rather sexual had either of them taken the opportunity to advance. And every time these little things happened, Dwayne always left the room shortly after and the more and more it happened, the more suspicious Frank became and it got to the point that Frank could no longer just ignore it.

It was a normal day, Sheryl and Richard were both at work, Olive was at a friend's house and Dwayne and Frank were left to themselves which meant that they would spend the day watching movies and criticizing the plots that they thought were poorly woven. Today they had picked a handful of movies and at the moment they were watching one of Dwayne's favorites 'American Beauty'. This of course meant that the air was not open for any snide remarks as there would be violent consequences for any bashing of the movie. Frank lounged comfortably on the small love seat and Dwayne sat next to him mere inches away, leaned forward with his face resting in his hands. The teen always watched this movie with great intent, as though every time he watched it he was expecting to find something new that he hadn't caught before. Frank had always had a so so feeling about the movie, as it seemed to have depth but at the same time the bag scene was just a little too much for him. It didn't really matter though, because Dwayne absolutely adored the movie, and to be honest, Frank just liked to see his nephew happy.

As the movie was close to ending, Frank furrowed his eyebrows and watched a particular part of the movie he had always been quite fond of. Both Ricky Fitts and the girl were standing in the room with that dumb blonde when she spoke so triumphantly "Well at least I'm not ugly" followed closely by a retort by Ricky, "Yes you are, and you're boring, and totally ordinary, and you know it."

Frank couldn't help but smile and he turned his head to look at Dwayne for just a moment and to his shock, he saw two bright blue eyes staring right back at him. His breath practically caught in his throat, unexpecting of Dwayne's close proximity, he opened his mouth just the slightest bit to say something, anything, but his words failed him entirely. Before he could even think a second more, Dwayne was up and walking out on his favorite movie. Frank sat dumbfounded, completely confused as to what just happened, and picturing only the quiet and soft expression of his nephew. It seemed so surreal, so fake in every way. Closing his eyes, Frank did his best to permanently capture the moment in his mind and it hit Frank that he couldn't just sit around and let this happen again.

Bolting out of his seat, he ran across the house, hands at his side out of poor habit and the entire time he shouted in his mind how wrong this was. It was his nephew for God sakes, but…did it really matter anymore? Does it really matter who the person is if you care about them more then life itself? Opening the door slowly to their shared room, Frank peeked his head in to see Dwayne with his face buried deep into his pillow. With a gentle sigh, he closed the door behind him and made his way slowly over to Dwayne's bed. Sitting down softly, Frank rub his hand gently on Dwayne's back and whispered in a soothing tone "Dwayne, sit up…okay…I think we need to talk…" Shaking his head, Dwayne only held his pillow tighter and Frank heard a sniffle from somewhere in the stuffing and stopped moving his hand at the small of Dwayne's back. "Dwayne?" he questioned softly, becoming increasingly worried. "Dwayne, are you okay?" he asked again.

Dwayne only shook his head and remained as stiff as a board. Frank gave a heavy sigh and removed his hand from his nephew's back and placed it lamely in his lap, but just as he did so Dwayne's voice could be heard from the depths of the pillow, "No…please…don't go" Frank immediately looked over towards the muffled voice and saw that Dwayne was slowly sitting up. "What?" Frank spoke, his voice barely making it past his clenched throat and dry tongue.

"I said…please don't go…" Dwayne murmured. His face was streaked with watermarks and his eyes were bloodshot from crying. Frank let out another sigh at the sight of him, but he reached forward and hesitantly pushed a few midnight locks from Dwayne's moist face. "Don't worry, I wasn't going to leave you" he said with a smile. Letting his hand fall once again he spoke with the quiet intelligence of a scholar "Now, can we discuss what's been making you so distraught lately? Because you're insane to think that I haven't noticed." A familiar smile fell onto Frank's face as he relaxed a bit, recalling a conversation that noted that Dwayne was experiencing his prime suffering years.

Dwayne remained silent for a long while, his eyes still remaining locked onto his uncle. Frank could feel a strange nervousness creeping up his spine with every passing second and all he wanted to do was get this conversation over with because the closeness was getting to him and his mind was racing more and more and he knew he was supposed to be the calm one and everything was just exploding and suddenly…everything just stopped…

Warm, chapped lips pressed softly against his as shaky hands rested against his chest. Frank could feel himself dizzying and his eyes opened as he watched his nephew pull away. Then…blackness.

"Frank…"

"Frank…wake up…"

A familiar voice sunk through a strange blackness and Frank's eyes fluttered open slowly to see Dwayne straddled over him, fully clothed thank God. His head turned sideways, and it was then he realized that he was lying on the floor as he could see directly under his cot where a few dirty magazines sat in a small heap in the corner.

"Frank…" Dwayne's voice came again and a thin, pale hand gently caressed his cheek. Turning back to look up at him, Frank squinted his eyes shut for a moment, fending off a frightening new headache. "What happened?" Frank mumbled as he raised a hand to his temple, except he ended up placing it on Dwayne's hand instead.

"Well…" Dwayne said with a faint laugh, "You kinda'…fainted a second ago…" Any sense of laughter immediately dissolved as a serious look over took the teen's face. "I'm really…Frank…I shouldn't have…I don't know what I was thinking…it's wrong Frank, but I mean, I can't help it…Frank I…I'm sorry, I'm sorry…I know we can't ever…" All of Dwayne's words were fragmented and Frank couldn't help but offer a small smile and even though his mind was screaming at him, telling him that it was indeed wrong, he pulled Dwayne's face down with confidence, even though the kiss was hesitant. Frank's lips ghosted over Dwayne's, both of them shaking with sweet anticipation and nerves. This was something they had both been waiting for over the past few years, and both of them knew just how wrong all of it was, but just for now, they both tried to think that their family was already fucked up, and that a little more insanity might not matter all too much.


End file.
